


Limbic Resonance

by callunavulgari



Category: Sense8 (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All right, children,” Laura tells them, and catalogs each and every one of their expressions. Some startle, others glare, and Derek breathes her name again, confused. “Here is my first and only lesson to you: <i>You are no longer just you.</i>”</p><p>[Some beginnings are endings, and some endings become beginnings. <i>A Sense8 AU</i>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limbic Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This here is the first chapter/prologue of my Sense8 fusion. There will be nine chapters overall, this one and then one for each of the eight. This is a WIP, but not to fear, I have most of my notes in order, so it should have semi-regular updates. The only relationships I've tagged so far are the ones I'm positive that I'm going to include and don't think will change as I write. Same deal with the characters - Laura, Marin, and Alan aside, only the eight and their immediate relationships are currently tagged as characters. I will probably add more as I go, especially when the bad guys show their faces. 
> 
> Also, because I think it needs saying, I had a lot of difficulty figuring out the characters. The best thing about Sense8 is the diversity in it, the glimpses that you get of all of these different cultures on almost every continent. You don't often get shows with characters from literally all over the world, and I almost didn't write this because well, in Teen Wolf everyone is pretty much from the US, and I didn't feel comfortable changing that for the sake of the story. Along that same vein, not every character translates perfectly to a character in the show. Lydia's a bit of a mixture of Sun and Kala. Kira's story follows along Nomi's, but her character itself is closer to Sun or Riley. This isn't a cookie cutter story, and the story itself will change a bit because of it. Will I borrow scenes from the show that I really wanted to write like Lydia showing Allison how to make a molotov cocktail or everyone singing that horrible He Man song? You bet. Will I try to follow along with some of the underlying plots? Sure, I will. But try not to look at it like each of these characters is the exact copy of the shows, because you will be hella disappointed.
> 
> So alas, read, enjoy, and hopefully I'll be back with the second chapter in a week or two. :)

The church is huge and dark, so quiet that Laura can hear every whimper echo. It smells of piss and unwashed bodies, the dirty mattress she's resting on of rat droppings and worse things. Laura’s been squatting here for who knows how long now, with the drugs to cloud her mind, but the smell is still repulsive, even with her own sweat and filth added to the mix.

It hurts. Everything hurts. So much pain, but if she can help it, only a little bit more now.

“Laura,” a voice calls from the darkness, and she blinks, unsure if it’s confined to the insides of her skull or if it’s real.

 _Laura_ , another voice breathes, and Laura sighs. This voice, she knows.

“Marin,” she sighs, as a slim hand brushes gently against her shoulder.

“Laura?” the first voice calls again, and there's a vicious curse as Alan spots her. He’s loud — so loud — as he scrambles to crouch beside her, cursing again as he latches onto her outstretched hand, contorted in pain. “Christ, Laura.”

On Laura’s other side, Marin regards her brother sadly, touch settling more easily on Laura’s shoulder. _You can’t let Whispers get him_.

Laura shakes her head, body locking up as another shudder of pain takes her. “I won’t, I won’t. I promise,” she replies through gritted teeth, and beside her, Alan goes still.

“Laura?” he asks, fingers moving to find the pulse at her neck. It’s too fast, she could tell him. Not that it will matter soon. “Who’s here? Who’s with you right now?”

Laura swallows, keeping her tongue tucked away from her teeth as her body quakes more violently. When it’s passed, she sighs and relaxes into his hold. “Your sister.”

“Marin?” Alan whispers, surprise on his face. “She’s—”

Marin bites her lip and squeezes Laura’s shoulder. _You don’t have much time._

“I know,” Laura tells her. To Alan, she says, “Your sister is safe for now. But you need to get out. He’s coming.”

“Not quite yet, he's not.” There’s a wry smile on his face, and she thinks fondly of the last time that they were all together; her, Alan, Marin, Kali, _Jennifer_ — Laura gasps, back bowing, and a sob escapes her. “Hey,” Alan goes, soothing. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you can do this. You’re strong, Laura, just like your mother.”

It’s a different kind of pain that jolts through her then, remembering her mother, her poor family.

They’ll be devastated by her death, Laura thinks.

She blinks again and swallows as a droplet of sweat tickles a jagged path down her throat. And just _there_ —

“I can see them,” she breathes out quietly on an exhale. Alan’s grip on her hand tightens and Marin’s gaze sharpens as she warns, _Laura_.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Laura tells her, staring in awe. It's exhilarating, a zing of pleasure that settles warmly into her core, drowning out the pain for a beautiful moment. She wonders if this is what it feels like to actually give birth, and see your child for the first time. She supposes that she'll never know, but _this_ , this is enough.

There, a man with blood splattered against the dark skin at his temple, a prop gun in his lap. The room he is in is extravagant, colored by ornate carvings and huge, golden statues. It's a church larger and more beautiful than the one she is in, men with cameras weaving in and out through the wide open doors. He’s smiling softly at the blonde girl who is fussing over him, lips parted on a word—

There, a boy lighting a cigarette in the dark, big hands cupped carefully around the small flame. His mouth is pulled into a frown and his eyes are downcast. He looks angry and sad in equal measures as he gazes at the city that stretches out below him. He blinks, startled, glancing in her direction—

There, a woman with a pale scar running from her chin to her collarbone. She is holding a gun to another woman’s temple, her eyes dark and fierce, violence so deep inside that it’s choking her—

There, a girl defiantly staring down what can only be a parent. Her spine is ramrod straight, but she nods politely to her mother, and then, when the woman leaves, her expression twists as she slams her fist into the wall as hard as she can. She gasps, pain and anger, turns to look—

There, a woman with lips as bright and red as her hair strides confidently down a gleaming hallway, shoulders back, neck straight, holding herself like a queen. She has a handful of folders in her arms and looks like she’s planning on slaughtering the man that she’s approaching, heels clicking on the marble, but when she reaches him, she pulls him down for a kiss—

There, a boy in green hospital scrubs, taking blood from a heavily jaundiced old woman. He smiles at her, dimpling adorably, and the old woman smiles back as he pulls away, replacing the needle with firmly applied gauze. Glancing up, he frowns—

There, two girls dancing together at a rave, the blacklight and strobe turning their skin into a rainbow of color. One girl laughs, dark eyes shining with delight, her smile fox-like and mischievous as the other playfully pulls her closer. They’re lost in each other, in their own world, but the first girl still blinks when she catches sight of something—

There—

“No,” Laura whimpers. “No, please, no.”

—A man looking out through the front window of a police cruiser, his eyes wide, a green that matches her own perfectly. His lips shape around a name. _Laura_ —

Laura comes back to herself with a gasp, sagging into Alan’s arms, relieved and hurt in equal measures; dying a little bit already.

She sucks in a breath and it comes out as a sob in the form of her little brother’s name. “Derek.”

Alan and Marin both go still.

“Another Hale,” Alan muses. Laura cannot see him, but she knows that voice. He is intrigued, interested. It's the voice that he uses when he wants to unravel a mystery, and sensing this, he gives her an apologetic grimace.

 _I’m sorry_ , is all Marin says. _But you’re out of time. Get my brother out of there and I’ll make sure yours stays safe._

“You need to leave now,” Laura tells Alan, and he nods, quickly gathering up his things. He doesn't apologize and she hopes, for Derek's sake, that he won't turn this into riddles and games.

“Laura?” Alan calls, turning only once he’s reached the door. “I’ll protect him. I promise.”

She tries to laugh, but it comes out entirely too pained to be believable. Her skin is soaked in sweat and she can feel her own death looming on the horizon, can see her eight before her, looking at her with confusion, intrigue, concern, _fear_ —

“You need to stop making promises to dying Hales, Alan,” she tells him, and he ducks his head, turning away.

Once he’s gone Marin sighs, sinking down next to Laura. She takes the hand that her brother dropped, rubbing Laura's knuckles soothingly. The pain is coming back, and she can feel  _him_ creeping back into her mind, oozing in like poison and slime.

 _I can stay with you, if you want_ , Marin offers.

Laura shakes her head. “Just protect them. Please.”

Marin stares at her for a long moment and then sighs, ducking down to press a kiss to Laura’s hair. _You always were the strongest of us_.

Laura snorts. “Liar.”

A smirk kicks up the corner of Marin’s mouth. _I will protect them. That part’s not a lie._

“I know.”

_And you know what needs done?_

Laura nods, tugging a gun out from under the corner of the mattress and holding it gently in her shaking hands. “I do.”

 _Goodbye,_ _Laura Hale_ , Marin whispers into the quiet. Then Laura is alone. Almost.

She is alone in the church and spread throughout the world at the same time, eight bright minds connected to hers. They’re all fierce little things, and she is desperately proud of them, here in her last moments, but it’s Derek that she has eyes for.

They’re all looking at her now. She has their attention. Derek is the only one in motion though, getting out of his cruiser and rushing around the side of the car to where he thinks she is, collapsed on the street, bruised and dirty after having been missing for weeks. He’ll want to bundle her up, take her home, and pry her full of chicken noodle soup while Cora curls up at Laura's side. He wants to keep her safe.

 _This isn’t that kind of story, little brother_ , she thinks.

“All right, children,” Laura tells them, and catalogs each and every one of their expressions. Some startle, others glare, and Derek breathes her name again, confused. “Here is my first and only lesson to you: _You are no longer just you_. _Don’t look at him._ ”

 _Come home, Laura_ , a voice whispers.

Laura lets out a shaky exhale and smiles at her brother one last time.

“Goodbye.”

Then she tucks the gun between her lips, swallows once, and pulls the trigger.

 


End file.
